


have their cake and eat it too

by enredo



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Real Madrid CF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5404460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enredo/pseuds/enredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which James is theirs, or how he makes them all fall a bit in love with him, from multiple perspectives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	have their cake and eat it too

**Author's Note:**

> not all relationships need to be seen as exclusively sexual and/or romantic, not all relationships need to be seen as continuous and/or a one time thing. all sex is implied but not explicit.

** Keylor **

Keylor’s the first to fall for it. Well, that sounds wrong, as if James had set him up to a trap, when in reality all he did was _be_ , be around, be genuine, be the sun itself inside such a small person. They’re both new and fresh off the world cup but Keylor is older, feels much older next to James than he actually is, barely a handful of years.

 

Being the first makes it harder for him.

 

Because in the beginning James is new and shy, barely out of the shell with the team, so he sticks to Keylor’s side and won’t let go because Keylor makes him feel comfortable, safe. He likes that, likes that he can be there for him even though he hasn’t actually known him for long.

 

Being the first is hard because he watches as James drifts away, never too far but he opens up to new people, he makes _them_ fall for him too. It’s fine, really, Keylor knows it’s impossible not to, knows James is too good and there’s not a soul who wouldn’t be gone on him within days, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy to share, to watch him hang off of someone else’s arms.

 

He’s happy, though, James is absolutely glowing, so it’s fine with him.

 

* * *

 

**Javier**

 

Chicha comes next.

 

He knows his stay in the team won’t last, knows the circumstances that brought him to Real Madrid weren’t the best, but he still hadn’t expected it to be that bad. He wants to play, wants to at least show he can do something, but he feels as forgotten as he did the past few months.

 

He hadn’t expected to make friends, either, but he doesn’t unwelcome them, especially James’ when he tries making conversation. It’s sort of hard to look at him, the way he smiles is kind of blinding, but when he scores and James throws himself at him, smiles and embraces him like he’s something amazing, it gets a little easier. He’s glad he’s more tanned now, it’s easier to hide how he blushes, Jesus, _he blushes_.

 

Having a crush is one of the many bad outcomes of this situation, but he still doesn’t regret getting to know him. Keylor makes fun of him, but he gets it. It’s comforting.

* * *

 

**Marcelo**

 

The thing with him, with _James and him_ , is that he doesn’t expect it to happen so quickly, but at the same time he knows it. They click, they fit, just like that, as easy as football. It’s not just on the pitch, no, in fact he thinks the reason why they click so well in the game, to the point where they barely have to look to know where the other is on the pitch, is how well they get on off of it.

They’re very similar, even in their differences. James is touchy and open in his affection, big brown eyes always warm and inviting. Of course Marcelo goes for it, would anyone doubt they’d fall into each other’s space as soon as they met properly?

 

They’re comfortable and easy and new, but the way they act around each other is anything but tentative, as if they’d known each other for years. It doesn’t startle him when they share a room and James has no reservations, isn’t shy in the slightest when he lies down in Marcelo’s bed. He goes with it, snuggles in closer until James smiles in _that_ way that disarms any human being in his right mind, and buries his face in Marcelo’s hair.

 

Although the friendship had started fast, this part is different. It’s how things progress, slowly but surely, slow but easy, in the way they sit together on the plane or the bus, in the way he reaches for James hands, how familiar it becomes to have James laughing along with him at the most stupid jokes in the most absurd hours of the night while sharing a bed.

 

It’s not a surprise when they’re in James’ room at Valdebebas, not freezing anymore in Madrid’s almost unbearable winter, laughing at some stupid story Marcelo is telling about Cristiano when James leans forward, smile changing completely but not at all, not for long enough because he presses his lips against Marcelo’s, kisses him full on the mouth, warm and sweet and god, he’s so young, so beautifully young and Marcelo doesn’t think he’s felt this way since he met his wife. He vaguely thinks of how much fun she’ll make of him and his crush when he tells her.

 

James is smiling when he lets go, eyes almost closing and cheeks flushed pink, but he’s not shy, no, he’s probably having a laugh at Marcelo in his mind because of how Marcelo is probably making a fool out of himself right there.

 

“What was that for?”

 

“I wanted to kiss you. You looked very kissable.” James shrugs, absolutely grinning now and Marcelo feels helpless. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

 

Marcelo knows he’s playing him right in his hand, knows very well that James is aware of how much he actually wants to kiss him, to be kissed by him, and still he can’t find it in himself to even tease him back.

 

“Shut up, kid.” Marcelo mumbles stupidly, then brings him forward so they could kiss again, and again, and again until they’re warmer, until they’re both naked under the comforter and it feels almost like summer again.

* * *

 

**Sergio**

 

He probably even smells like temptation, looks absolutely fun to mess with, and Sergio thinks it’ll take him a couple of months only to have the entire team and a half wrapped around his finger. Maybe even weeks. He tells Iker so, who rolls his eyes and tells him to behave, but who can’t even stop himself from having a soft spot for their colombian dancer.

 

It becomes Sergio’s new favorite game, to make him blush, but what he thought would be easy actually gets harder by the day. The more he opens up the less ashamed he is of things, of jokes, the more he teases back in a way that tells Sergio he knows exactly what he’s doing.

 

He’s not sexy in the way Cristiano is, for example, all muscles and superiority complex, but he knows how to use things in his favor. The wide brown eyes look, the smiles and the touches and the dances. Fuck, the stupid dances.

 

The way he touches and hugs you intensely and almost intimate, and Sergio’s honestly ashamed when he feels a thrill of excitement run in his spine when they joke, when they make him give him a lap dance in the locker room, Jesus Christ, and Sergio just sits there under Iker’s watchful gaze, who’s not mad in the slightest but interested instead as he looks at them and Sergio looks at James. It’s delicious, that’s the only word he can use to describe it, watching the colombian dancer moving between his legs with his shirt off, hips moving expertly and the perfect picture of youth and innocence and god, that shouldn’t turn him on so much.

 

It’s only later when he’s with Iker in bed that he knows it wasn’t just him, when Iker noses at the juncture between his neck and shoulder and thrusts inside him, talking filthy about how he could see Sergio was turned on, about how maybe he could join them sometime – ' _wouldn’t you love that, Nene?'_

Fuck, he would.

 

**Iker**

Iker knows his responsibilities, has known them for years now, but he also knows his perks. He’d learned it all from Raúl, both sides, both ways he had to act with and within the team, his posture. He watches the team, each one of them carefully, watches closely when someone new joins so he can see things before they happen.

 

James he sees miles away, sees how he smiles and hugs his way into the team in such manner that even Iker can’t resist, can’t help but teasing him sometimes, can’t help but be his captain and talk to him in what the others called ‘captain voice’ just to see him blush and look up at him with admiration clear in his eyes. He appreciates it that James is impressed with Real Madrid, can see clearly he’s living the dream and it’s always good to see that in a player, makes Iker’s heart swell with pride because that’s his home, Real Madrid is his and he is Real Madrid’s and everyone should acknowledge how great it is to be there.

 

He knows, too, that James has some level of understanding of what goes on inside the team, between some of them. He knows because James, barely trying at all, starts fitting and making his way right into the heart of it. He sees it all, the way he’s glued to Isco’s side in one minute and the next sitting between Marcelo’s legs, how he can’t go more than a couple of minutes before being attached to someone and looking completely comfortable and happy about it.

 

Iker tells himself it’s his duty as his captain to explain, but he knows it’s an excuse he doesn’t even need to have – _"We’re a family, Iker, yes? But we’re something else too.”_ Raúl had said to him once, and it all made sense, how everyone seemed to orbit around him, how Guti didn’t seem to mind all that much.

 

He understands it much better now, because if Raúl had Guti, he has Sergio and they have whoever wants to join; he understands why they floated towards their captain and why the others do it now. It was a matter of time, as it had been with Cristiano, with Marcelo, with Mesut.

 

It’s amusing, how he barely has to ask him, mouth brushing against his ear and his voice low, the voice he uses to command them, and James seems to understand it all as he nods, firmly and decided but nervous, wanting. The kid shivers.

 

It’s Sergio who eases off his nerves and asks twice, three times if James is sure, tells him he doesn’t have to feel pressured into anything while Iker drives them back to Sergio’s. He watches James get slightly annoyed and definitely already turned on, silencing Sergio’s questions with a kiss of his own, and Iker won’t deny he speeds up when he looks in the mirror for a second and sees his hand squeezing Sergio’s crotch through his jeans.

* * *

 

**Isco**

For some reason people think he’s supposed to hate him. Isco hates people, because they’re often stupid and because they know nothing. It’s really, really fucking hard to dislike James.

 

At first he tries to blame it all the loss of Álvaro, living in fucking Turin now, tries to blame it on how much he misses him and all that bullshit, but he knows it’s not true. Well, he misses him a lot, that part is true, but that’s not all there is to it. Nacho knows it, Dani knows it, and they waste no time making fun of him for it.

 

James isn’t ever shy in the way he interacts with him, doesn’t ever look at him wrong or treats him badly because supposedly they’re competing for the same starting spot, but when they actually get the chance to start together? Things change.

 

Isco is good, he knows he is, but James is brilliant and he makes him brilliant. It’s weird, how they weren’t even that close but the game changes everything, the way the connect on the pitch makes his insides feel funny and stupid and yes, he’d do his best for this, for the feeling of the crowd vibrating with the chants but also for the feeling he gets when James points to him, looks at him with adoration in his eyes, holds Isco tight against his body and kisses his cheek.

 

They’re drunk in Sergio’s house, partly on alcohol but mostly in happiness with how the season is going, and James is smiling and dancing and Isco only stops looking when it gets too obvious, when watching James sitting on Marcelo’s lap or dancing with Chicha gets too much. He talks to Nacho and Dani but they’re assholes, his friends, they leave him to look for more beer and Isco is too happy to be alone, too happy to feel like he’s missing something and it’s fucking unfair, if you ask him.

 

James, though, as if knowing, is there in a minute, one arm wrapping around Isco’s shoulder and the other around his waist, pressing their sides together, leaning in to whisper in his ear, taking advantage of the height difference he loved to make fun of Isco for.

 

“You ok?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Isco smiles in response, but James frowns, detecting the half-truth immediately.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I guess.” Isco shrugs. “I don’t like being left alone.” It feels stupid to admit and he blames the alcohol for it, feels vulnerable and pathetic, but the confession smoothes the worried lines in James’ forehead and his face goes soft again.

 

“Me neither.” He smiles and turns his body so they’re hugging properly now, on the corner of Sergio’s living room where most of the team is, but it’s not like they care. James has both arms wrapped tight around his waist, face tucked between Isco’s shoulder and neck where he leaves a feather light kiss.

 

“You’re never alone, liar.” Isco mumbles against the fabric of James’ shirt, letting himself feel the smell of him, something expensive and soft and masculine, nothing sweet like Isco thought it’d be. He finds out he likes it better than whatever he had imagined.

 

“I’m never alone because I don’t like it.” James chuckles, turning so he’s not kissing Isco’s clothed shoulder anymore, but instead the skin of his neck. It’s as comforting as it is mean, because Isco’s lonely and harboring a goddamn crush and the subject of his crush is right there doing things to him.

 

“So what, you came to be because you don’t wanna be alone?”

 

“No,” James says, and straightens up until he’s looking straight at Isco again, but his arms only bring him closer. He seems offended and even sad that Isco assumed such thing. “I like you.”

 

“You like a lot of people.” Isco says, and he hates sounding egoistical and needy, but it’s not as if James would judge him for that.

 

“Yeah.” James shrugs, then bends down a little, just enough to brush a kiss on the corner of his mouth, enough to make his intentions clear.  “And I like you, too.”

 

“Come home with me.” Isco asks, because fuck it. He’s an adult and James is an adult and he wants him. James doesn’t even answer, just smiles and tells him to meet him back there in 10 minutes after they said their goodbyes.

 

Isco pointedly ignores Sergio and Iker’s matching, knowing smirks, ignores how he’s leaving the party with absolutely everyone knowing he’s leaving with James, not because it was something to be embarrassed of – Jesé looked torn between pride and jealousy –  but because it’s was of awesome and Isco wasn’t sure he could stop his own face from looking stupid.

 

It’s all worth it, though, to find out that James likes to stop his babbling by replacing his sounds with moans, to find out he doesn’t fuck nearly as sweet as he looks.

* * *

 

**Cristiano**

Hypothetically, if people knew what happened inside their team, Cristiano is sure they would assume something between him and James would already have happened. If it was up to him, honestly, some things would have happened, lots of things, things he couldn’t help thinking whenever James was all over him.

 

The thing, though, is that he’s sure James has been teasing him for ages now. Granted, Cristiano’s guilty of his own fair share of teasing, too, but he’s used to being on the winning side of this kind of dance for a long time now. He had thought it would be easy, to tease and play and pull pigtails until James would break, but he had been so, so wrong. He doesn’t know when James started controlling and besting him at his own game, but suddenly he finds himself wanting, frustrated and having feelings for the kid.

 

He had watched him with Marcelo, how they seemed connected on a whole other level apart from all of them, had watched Sergio daring him to see how far he’d go, watched him take Isco home, watched him flirt with Rapha and Jesé putting his hands all over him. It seemed as if everyone was getting what they wanted except him, and he couldn’t have that.

 

It’s not until the annual team Christmas party at his house that he’s had enough, not until James is fighting playfully with Nacho on the couch that he sees it, sees the damn thing when James’ shirt lifts only a bit, only enough for Cristiano’s mouth to go dry. It wasn’t supposed to turn him on this much, James wearing CR7 boxers like a mark, but that did it for him immediately. The worst part was that the little bastard knew, it was clear from the way his eyes had left Nacho and he fixed his gaze on Cristiano, smiling up almost innocently if not for his challenging eyes.

 

“James, can you come help me with something in the kitchen real quick?” Cristiano’s very proud of the way his voice doesn’t waver when he says it, and James plays the ever prestative guest part very well.

 

He leads James with a hand on the small of his back past the kitchen and into the closest bathroom, and he would be almost mad at the knowing smirk James had on his lips when he locked the door behind them, if he wasn’t so turned on to begin with.

 

“Did you see? I got myself a Christmas gift.” James says, and before he can even say more, Cristiano kissing him almost bruisingly, only stopping to tell him how he was going to drive someone crazy some day.

 

After he drops to his knees and sucks him off hard and quick, lets him come down his throat and James, even though he’s breathing heavily, asks him if that’s all he’s got, Cristiano’s sure that person is going to be him.

 

“You better recover fast enough because I’ll be waiting for you to fuck me upstairs in twenty minutes.” Cristiano says, and James only grins in response.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this a long time ago with a lot of help to have an insight inside real madrid's dynamics, so thank you to all my madridista friends who helped. 
> 
> because anyway, who doesn't ship james with everyone?


End file.
